


hearts turn to dirt along with the rest of your body (its all claimed by the earth)

by wikipediabr0wn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Fluff, Id Fic, M/M, Reunions, spoilers for s08e03, this is my coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 11:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18738547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wikipediabr0wn/pseuds/wikipediabr0wn
Summary: If this is what death meant, then he would readily accept his fate.





	hearts turn to dirt along with the rest of your body (its all claimed by the earth)

**Author's Note:**

> title from we have it all by pim stones
> 
> ((aka my go-to song for this pairing))

The air tasted of salt and ocean spray. A chilled breeze flew over his skin leaving his hair standing up. Out the window, he saw stony spires standing tall and grand over the water. Waves crashed against their rocky shores. Mist swept through the sky and the sound of docking ships was ringing out. Wind whipped through his hair as he gazed out the window. This was the Iron Islands as Theon dreamed of it. The harshness forgotten, the violent edges removed. All that was left was sweetness.

Pressing a hand to his stomach he wondered how he had gotten here. It was a blurry puzzle and the pieces weren’t quite fitting together. He had been at Winterfell, he knew, but that seemed like a lifetime ago. He remembered unforgiving pain coursing through him and his knees hitting the frozen ground. He had been hurt. Some ugly monster had attacked him. A hideous thing with severe blue flesh. And then he fell.

And now he was here. Where was here? The huge window before him was framed with linen curtains. The winds made them flutter against the stone brick walls. The view outside was of the Iron Islands. He might have assumed that he was at Pyke, but he had never been in this room before. Or had he? The air was strange and familiar and distant and comforting.

He traced his finger along the cool window sill. He could almost hear someone yelling. And then crying. And then a woman’s kiss on his forehead. A tiny voice in the back of his head was telling him that he was dead. But that couldn’t be right. He was breathing, wasn’t he? Where was the Drowned God and the watery halls that the Drowned men always spoke of?

Theon slowly turned around, scarcely able to tear his eyes away from the crisp and confusing view of his childhood home. He was in an airy and open room. A wooden armoire sat against one wall and there as a writing desk next to the window. It the center of the room was a vast feather bed, finer than anything Theon had ever seen. On the bed, sat Robb Stark.

Robb looked like everything else in this place: pristine and perfect. He laid comfortably on the bed, his legs buried underneath the plentiful sheets. He wore nothing but an unlaced cotton shirt, a pair of breeches, kind eyes, and a small smile. Theon melted.

“Theon?” Robb said, sitting up. He rested his weight on one hand and pushed the other up into his red curls. His ocean blue eyes met Theon’s.  _ No, not ocean blue _ , Theon thought,  _ river blue _ .

Theon’s mouth hung ajar. This man was Robb Stark in his purest form. He was lacking all the anguish of a boy forced to be a man. There were no frowns, furrowed brows, or sharp angles here.

He swallowed. “Robb,” he managed to choke out before stumbling forward. He crashed into Robb with a hug. He fell and buried his face in Robb’s neck. He wanted to touch, touch,  _ touch _ . He had been starved of Robb for so many years and he refused to let go this time. He refused to make the same mistake twice. God, he had made so many mistakes. Just as he was about to whisper a million apologies, Robb laughed and weaved his fingers into Theon’s hair.

“Don’t say anything,” Robb said with a grin. “You don’t have to say anything.”

Theon broke down. “I’m so sorry.” He was fighting to hold back tears. “I should’ve— I should’ve stayed with you. I’m sorry. I was a fool.” He paused. “I should’ve died with you.” It was a thought he’d had many times before.

Robb brushed what tears escaped away with his thumb. He frowned. “No, you shouldn’t have. You’d be a fool to think that. All is well. You’re a good man.”

Those words echoed in Theon’s mind. He heard screams of pain sounding from the back of his head. He saw Bran Stark nod at him. He felt an icy spear thrust through his abdomen. He had died. He had really died. He was dead.

Robb brushed his hand over his cheek and smiled. His fingers were wandering over Theon’s face, tracing the shell of his ear, the lines around his eyes, and the curve of his mouth. Robb leaned forward ever so slowly until Theon couldn’t take it anymore. 

Always brash, Theon grabbed Robb’s face and their lips collided. Whether it was the shocking realization that he was dead or the yearning for Robb that had never truly gone away, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he wanted Robb’s lips on his. They had kissed a few times before as boys in Winterfell, but never like this. Oh no. Never like this. 

This was the culmination of year after year of guilt and shame and longing. This was hurried. It was greedy. It was wrong. But Theon was a master of doing things wrong. Their foreheads bumped and their noses crashed. Theon held onto Robb as if he thought that if he let go for even a moment, he would disappear. 

Theon broke the kiss when coming up for air. But Robb caught his lips again, if only for a moment. He bit his lip and smiled. This was going against everything he had been led to believe. And yet, he was the happiest he had been in years. If this is what death meant, then he would readily accept his fate.

He wrapped his arms around Robb and whispered, “I don’t ever want to leave this room.”

Robb leaned into him, clinging onto his leather jerkin. “In the next world,” he said, voice barely above a breath. “We won’t have to worry about liars and lions. When we wake up, it’ll just be you and me.” Robb let his eyes flutter closed. “You and me.”

Theon let Robb slump against him. He laid the two of them down on the softness of the feather bed. He wanted to believe that. He closed his eyes and pushed his nose into Robb’s hair, thinking of nothing but the next world.

**Author's Note:**

> im not coping with theons death well. honestly, fuck d&d


End file.
